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<title>I am a young, loving and gentle trans ready and willing to keep #Canada's army wives in good company, warm, and gratified while their partners are away. by Madeline69</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432234">I am a young, loving and gentle trans ready and willing to keep #Canada's army wives in good company, warm, and gratified while their partners are away.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madeline69/pseuds/Madeline69'>Madeline69</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Furry (Fandom), NOT DEAD - Madi G, Original Work, Rattyverse (Universe)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adultery, Cunnilingus, F/F, Feminist Themes, First Dates, Gay, Hook-Up, JUST, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Lesification, MILFs, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Sushi, anarchist praxis, but she doesnt have kids so, charming possum, feminist critique of monogamy, i guess, incredibly charming possum, lesbian!!!, not dead, ratty is a feminist cus of her long tongue jsyk, rattyverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:34:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madeline69/pseuds/Madeline69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mel was originally outraged when she saw Ratty's post, seemingly taunting the "brave" men and women who keep Canadian soil safe... but then she saw the pictures... and, well, what's wrong with trying to make friends across the aisle?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>OC/OC, Ratty/Army Wife, Ratty/Mel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I am a young, loving and gentle trans ready and willing to keep #Canada's army wives in good company, warm, and gratified while their partners are away.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That was definitely her. Spiked jacket, black and red flag on the back, pink paint splattered on her black leather boots. Melinda had Googled the flag before setting out that day; it was the flag of Anarchist Communism, according to Wikipedia. Towards the top, it had been detailed with the words “Not Dead” and a crude illustration of a possum. She didn’t have to Google the source of the pink paint.</p><p>Ratty was odd for a possum. Her dull greenish hair showed no signs of different coloured roots, a wild mane stepping aside only for a pair of curled horns. Even as they had agreed this would be a casual meeting, the possum’s opulent dishevelment made Melinda feel somewhat plain.</p><p>What perhaps kept her this some ten feet behind was the possum’s twitter bio: “she/they // undead (1998-2025) // the army wives thing is not a bit”</p><p>That was how they first bumped into each other. Ratty had posted under the #armywives tag, seemingly joking about how she was “ready and willing to keep #Canada's army wives in good company, warm, and gratified while their partners are away.”</p><p>Paul was endlessly deployed. He would return home antsy and fly out as soon as he was cleared for another tour. In between, they would occasionally have sex — if for no other reason than obligation. Melinda would cry when he left, feel even stronger the void in her queen size bed that so often went unfilled, and go back to a general, loveless, numbness.</p><p>There was a distinct possibility that Ratty was not joking. Melinda had hovered in the reply field for a few moments, ready to admonish the possum’s mockery, and in that moment felt strangely compelled by the flattering photos she had posted of herself.</p><p>One thing led to another and here she was, sitting patiently at a bus stop, watching cars go by; completely unaware of her date hovering just a few meters behind. She checked her phone absentmindedly, flicked to a white screen with blue bubbles, and nearly gave Melinda a heart attack as her own phone buzzed loudly in her hands.</p><p>The punk’s sensitive ears jumped to attention, she turned, and in an instant, her bored vacancy drowned in a pool of warm excitement.</p><p>“Hi, Mel?”</p><p>Oh gosh, oh goodness, oh shit. No turning back now. She presented her hand on instinct, her few years as a saleswoman before marrying taking over in the void where dating existed. Ratty paused mid-stride, briefly confused, before taking the hand in her own and shaking it gently.</p><p>It was hard to believe that “I’m not sure yet whether or not I want to have sex with you.” was the first thing Ratty heard in Melinda’s voice. Hard first for the possum to process, then for the collie to accept as something she had said.</p><p>“Yeah, of course.” Her smile never faltered. Letting go of the awkwardly outstretched hand, she kept idle rocking on the balls of her feet, exasperating the already overwhelming height difference. “Did you still want to get dinner?”</p><p>“Yes, yeah. Absolutely.” Pushing 40 did not make mimicking Ratty’s tone easy. Yet there was something about her cool, crackling confidence that slowed Melinda’s heart.</p><hr/><p>“What do you mean you don’t have any hobbies?” The possum was legitimately dumbfounded.</p><p>“I don’t know!” The crowded sushi bar was one of the only places Melinda had felt comfortable raising her voice in recent years. It seemed to be expected among the clang of knives and sizzle of cookware; not a single voice remained at indoor level, and yet nobody seemed to have to strain to hear. “It was all ‘work work work’ when I was your age! Then I got married, and I started taking care of the house, and-” She was interrupted by a porcelain platter, filled neatly with little pieces of raw fish on beds of rice.</p><p>“Thank you so much.” The possum nodded at their waiter. “I’m sure you have plenty of time with uh-”</p><p>“Paul.”</p><p>“With Paul away. There must be something you’ve always wanted to learn.”</p><p>“Oh god, I’m too old to learn anything new.”</p><p>“No way. Absolutely not.” The possum filled a shallow porcelain dish on Mel’s side of the table with a semi-opaque brown liquid, catching a drip from the edge of the bottle with her finger before it hit the table and slipping it into her mouth, as though there was any way she could remain unseen from 3 feet away. “I’m— how old am I…”</p><p>“Don’t make fun of me.” The collie smiled, giving the possum a gentle tap with the tip of her shoe under the table.</p><p>“Honest to god, I am…” she did the math in her head, “107 years old, I think.”</p><p>“No way.”</p><p>“I know! I keep my fur very smooth.” The possum grinned, picking up her first morsel and pausing to give Melinda a chance to pick up hers. The collie took a moment to realize what was going on before staring down at her own chopsticks, a little panicked.</p><p>“I’m sorry- this is my first time-” Melinda gave a desperate, bashful smile as she picked up the fused pair of sticks.</p><p>“Well then I apologize,” the possum held out her hand for the sticks, snapping them into two separate pieces as they landed in her hand, “I have forever spoiled you on sushi. Here.” She pushed the platter aside and set the sticks in the crux of Mel’s hand, gently maneuvering the collie's fingers into position.</p><p>“My wife, they don’t have pads on their fingers so… every time we do sushi they make this… contraption with wadded up paper and…” she spoke so absentmindedly, just filling the space as she figured out exactly how chopsticks were supposed to be held. “There.”</p><p>“And then I just…” Melinda browsed the small selection of fish, not sure what constituted a ‘good piece’ and picked out an inoffensive looking white piece.</p><p>“You’re already a pro.” The possum ribbed gently, keeping a careful eye on the collie’s flimsy grip. She flipped the piece in her own, dunking the very tip of the salmon coloured piece — probably salmon, come to think of it — into her own trough of brown fluid. It slipped off limply, sitting now half in and half out of the salty little lake.</p><p>“Is that-”</p><p>“Nope!” She was completely unphased, reassembling the little piece and setting it in her mouth in almost the same motion. “You don’t have to do that part, by the way. It’s just like a dipping sauce.”</p><p>Mel nodded, looked down at the table to assess the distance between her own piece and the little dish, and went for it. Slowly, making absolutely sure not to drop the white piece of fish, she lowered a shaking hand towards the porcelain, stopped just at the surface, and then — like a machine — began the slow climb back to her mouth. Ratty watched all of this with intense fascination, growing more and more excited as Mel’s chance of success skyrocketed.</p><p>As though equally excited to be eaten, the morsel fell perfectly into Mel’s open mouth.</p><p>“Fuck yes!” Ratty cheered, her eyes lingering for just long enough to be noticed on Mel’s lips. She covered her chewing with one paw, the excited smile spreading up to her eyes. Ratty blinked as her gaze moved with it. </p><p>“You have beautiful eyes, Mel.” She said abruptly.</p><p>Melinda snorted at the sudden compliment, the hand over her mouth now doing double duty to keep the food in her mouth.</p><p>“This is… delicious…” she deflected between chews.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’ve never tried it.” and just like that, the possum was back on track. Mel finished chewing, swallowed, and set her wrist back on the edge of the table, reverting back to what she had been taught as a kid. </p><p>“You uh, mentioned a wife.” </p><p>“Mmhm,” the possum nodded, “their name is Sett, they’re uh— this feels weird but it’s hard to put labels on the kinds of jobs we do? I guess they’re an activist? But they’re also, a scholar and a doctor and a lot of other things.”</p><p>“And does she know about this?”</p><p>“They do. We have an open relationship.” The possum took a sip of her green tea. “Does…”</p><p>“Paul.”</p><p>“Does Paul know about this?”</p><p>“No, he doesn’t.”</p><p>“Well, that’s okay.” The possum picked up another piece of sushi, keeping it together this time as she dipped it in her sauce. “You deserve attention. We haven’t done anything line-crossing yet.”</p><p>It was a challenge to think about Paul at all, really. Each moment spent in tears at his absence now felt hollow under this new context, as though it were some void in her life, not as uniquely shaped as Mel had first thought.</p><p>“And he’s your only family?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m uh— I can’t conceive.” It was hard to feel bad about that at this moment. She felt almost completely normal as the possum’s tail rested on her side of the booth, felt a cool comfort creep up their back as it slid along the fake leather to rest gently against the underside of her thigh. She crept her hand forward on the little black table, quietly delighted as the possum offered hers as a resting place.</p><p>“I think I’d like to learn to paint,” Mel said.</p><p>“That’s fantastic. Maybe I could show you my studio some time?” and of course Ratty had a studio.</p><p>“I think I might like that.” Mel smiled.</p><hr/><p>“Mind if I smoke?” The possum didn’t wait for an answer before popping the lid on a little blue container. The burnt smell of skunk wafted from her open palm, flashing Mel back to her high school days.</p><p>“Is that allowed?” The collie glanced around conspiratorially, assessing in an instant who might be an undercover cop.</p><p>“It’s legal. Nobody cares.” She set the little cardboard tube on her lips and flicked open her lighter. Mel watched intently as she sucked back… what would it have been called? A toke? That seemed old fashioned. “Want some?” She prodded.</p><p>“Oh, god- I can’t.” Mel scoffed, picturing her unfortunate last time with surprising clarity.</p><p>“Why not?” The possum noodled, blowing a plume of smoke above their heads.</p><p>“I- you’re right. Why not, right?” She took the joint, set it clumsily on her lips, and took a deep inhale. Nothing.</p><p>“Oh, sorry, you’ve gone out. Here.” The damp air had extinguished the joint. Gently, the possum tipped up Mel’s chin and lit the ashy end of the joint. She sucked back again and almost immediately choked on the harsh, dry smoke. “Woah, woah. Calm down there tiger.” Ratty nabbed what was left and set a gentle hand on Mel’s back.</p><p>“I haven’t-” she coughed “done that since high school.”</p><p>“It’s okay, you’re out of practice.” Ratty’s firm hand felt grounding, even as it slipped down around Mel’s waist. One hand occupied with holding her chest, the other set itself comfortably on top of the possums, leaning in a little more with each cough.</p><p>“I- we’re almost at my place. I’ll just get some water.” the head rush that’d hit her like a brick wall had begun to slowly dissipate, leaving a warm blurry mellow that brightened the wet pavement’s reflection of the overhead street lights. Having landed almost on accident in the crux of the possum’s chest, Mel dreaded the upcoming moment where they would have to part ways.</p><p>In fact, she decided at that moment that they wouldn’t.</p><p>Ratty spent the rest of the walk quietly sucking away at her joint, taking every pause as an opportunity to silently check on Mel. Their fur had begun to mingle at such a level where it was difficult to tell where the back of her neck ended and her arm began. </p><p>And before long they stood at the end of the walk up to Mel and Paul’s tiny townhouse. Ratty broke off from the side-hug, leaving her hand in Mel’s.</p><p>“Am I leaving you here?” She asked.</p><p>“I… would rather you didn’t,” Mel responded. Ratty smiled, her sharp teeth glinting below what must’ve been a pair of very soft lips. The collie led their catch up the walk, ducked as not to be seen by neighbours that’d probably already gone to sleep, and felt for the first time in what must’ve been years a slightly fuller home as the door closed behind them.</p><p>She watched as the possum knelt to unzip her boots, toing off her own sky blue canvas sneakers. Ratty’s eyes lingered on her paws for a moment before tracing up her legs, helped along by a gentle cup around her chin Mel had not consciously put there.</p><p>“You’re not too high to— I mean I’m—”</p><p>“No, no.” Mel’s hand fell from its position as Ratty stood, not quite sure how to navigate a woman’s body after so many years of owning one. “Is it- I don’t want to be rude.”</p><p>“What’s up?”</p><p>“Would it be gay? I mean.” Mel prodded. “I know— I mean I really don’t know much about the um, transsexual thing.”</p><p>“Does it matter.” Ratty nudged, only the faintest hint of annoyance in her voice, hidden under a few layers of silky guidance.</p><p>“I- well, I-” She noticed at that moment that her skirt had begun to ride up against the wall, exposing the thin patches of fur where she was striped with cellulite. “Oh god, you can see my stretch marks.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” The possum laughed softly, slipping Mel’s hand into her jacket and around an exposed patch of fur at her waist. “I have them too.”</p><p>And then Mel kissed her.</p><p>Because why not? It’s what she deserved, cooped up in this house all day, her only hobby taking care of detritus she only half owned. It was fine — though barely — when she could tell herself she was doing it for love, but there was none of that left. Mel deserved a life, this was the first step in getting one.</p><p>She let out a surprised sigh as the possum’s firm grip crumpled the soft fabric of her dress against her hips, distracted momentarily from the taste of smoke by the cold shatter of nerves dancing up her back. She wove her paws up the interior of the jacket, stopping dead in her tracks as she found her hands resting on a small pair of foam-padded breasts.</p><p>“I-” She broke off. Her intent was to help Ratty slip off her jacket. Instead, for a few awkward moments, she stood there with another woman’s breasts in her palms, staring at them like a dumb-struck teenager at summer camp. Her bra — gray and knit — was just barely covered by her overalls. It had not been easy to tell from a distance that the possum was topless.</p><p>“Never, uh…” Ratty trailed off, a bemused smirk well out of Mel’s view.</p><p>“I mean—” Her mind caught up just enough to make eye contact and drop the groping, “I have— I mean you can tell, I have my own, so…”</p><p>“So…” Ratty once again guided Mel’s hand, slipping her jacket off of her free arm and setting the collie’s thumb on the button that kept the front of her overalls up. She popped the left one with her free arm, and waited. </p><p>Mel traced the line of Ratty’s jaw down through her throat, across the vast softness of her chest, and undid the button. The front piece of fabric now slouched just enough to show a hit of cleavage. The possum shivered, and at once the rest of her top fell away, leaving behind a sports bra, and a pair of overalls slouching just enough to spot the top of a matching pair of gray panties.</p><p>“Are you cold?” She asked, now distracted enough to separate the part of her mind in a state of gay panic from the part that thought and spoke. “The front room is a little warmer.”</p><p>“I- yeah, a little.” the possum’s sharp voice softened in the quiet. Mel broke off in that moment, guiding Ratty by the hand in a detached march. She tossed a blanket over the couch, clicked on the fireplace with a little switch on the mantle, unzipped the back of her dress, and — almost robotically — began to pull it off.</p><p>“Woah, hey.” The collie froze in the middle of her routine, turning back to the possum with one arm of the dress sagging down her shoulder.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Well I just wanted to make sure—”</p><p>“Yes, this is what I want.”</p><p>“Well, okay then,” Ratty closed the gap between them. “Then I want to do this part.”</p><p>The possum knelt in front of Mel, gently dragging her hands up the collie’s thighs, the warm breath of her snout tickling the sensitive furs of the inside of her thigh. She stopped as the hem of the dress passed the high waist of Mel’s underwear, gently dragging her nose along the lower hem. Her knees buckled as the snout crept closer to her crotch, conscious of the fact of her anatomy for the first time in months. Ratty knelt back just far enough to make eye contact and waited for a nod.</p><p>“Please,” Mel whispered, barely above a breath. The possum’s gaze fell again, licking her lips unseen as her claws just barely scraped on their way into Mel’s waistband. In a few agonizing moments, the thin layer of fabric peeled from her folds, in another her tongue had pushed open her labia and was gently cupping her clitorus.</p><p>Mel pulled the rest of the dress over her head, almost throwing herself to the floor in the process. Ratty pulled back just enough to speak, a bead of spit still linking their lips. </p><p>“Sit?”</p><p>“Yes, please.” Mel fell back on the prepared blanket, now in full view as the possum stood to move along. She froze, standing, an obvious bulge in her work pants.</p><p>“You’re gorgeous.” She murmured, seemingly not in control of her words.</p><p>“Oh hush.” Mel covered her face, only to feel Ratty’s gentle grip pull it away.</p><p>“You’re a goddess.” Mel could taste the smoke again. She sat up just enough to give Ratty a kiss, confused at the new sour taste on her tongue. Ratty accepted it graciously and made her way back down along Mel’s chest, supporting herself first on the collie’s armpits, stopping briefly to grope her breasts from below, then tracing her hands and snout in tandem down, down. </p><p>Down until her grip was locked firmly into the other woman’s hips, until their lips met again, until — held in place by her firm hands — Mel’s hips bucked against Ratty’s tongue. She became more and more conscious of herself as she felt a few cold drips navigate their way down through her fur, only to be pushed back into her head as the possum’s fingers, previously tracing harmlessly along the outside of her vulva, dove in.</p><p>Odd, she thought, to focus on the way the fur cresting her knuckles tickled the spot between her tongue and her fingers, but to focus on anything else would be overwhelming.</p><p>Of course, no sooner had that thought crossed her mind than the full weight of Ratty’s movement crashed into her, the offset pattern of fingering and licking shooting out through her body — no doubt in part due to the lingering high. She yelped as, cresting the top of a wave, she realized in the same moment that she had to pee, and then no longer had to pee.</p><p>“I’m so, sss—” the possum seemed unphased, stopping only as the first syllables of an apology stopped at her ears.</p><p>“Something wrong?” The possum sat up, the fur under her chin damp from the effort, keeping her fingering hand in place if only to keep the momentum.</p><p>“I’ve never done that— I’m so sorry.” It was a struggle to speak, somehow dragged along the surface by three fingers.</p><p>“Never done what?” She took the chance to flip her hair out of her eyes, a bemused smirk finding its way back to her face as she caught Mel’s open-mouth panting.</p><p>“I just— I just peed in your mouth, didn’t I?” Mel asked. Ratty blinked, then slowly shook her head.</p><p>“That’s not pee,” She climbed up the couch and sat next to Mel, the rough leg of her overalls draped over the collie’s lap, keeping her legs spread. “When was the last time you had an orgasm, Mel?” Her hand had not stopped, only migrated to rest on her pubic mound, taking the place of her tongue.</p><p>“I—” the collie searched her memory, “I don’t remember.”</p><p>Ratty’s face lit up at this. She pressed her damp lips into Mel’s, a new sweet mingling with the sour. She heard — oddly — the click of a cell phone, and then-</p><p>Oh god.</p><p>The possum had pressed a corner of the slick black rectangle into the face where her fingers had retreated moments before. Its vibration sent shocks of pleasure up into her chest and down into her legs, forcing her calves to contract as they decided mere toe-curling would not be enough.</p><p>“Oh god.” She moaned into Ratty’s mouth, listening to her body as the circular motion of the cell lit up each of her extremities in turn, savoring each time it chose to highlight her mouth. Her hands on the possum’s cheeks, she had missed the in-between phases of pushing Ratty’s mouth further and further open until their tongues rested together naturally. She felt the coarse fabric of her pants, the bulge below rutting against her thigh.</p><p>“Oh god.” Mel repeated, feeling another stream of mystery fluid bead its way down the back of her legs. She had forgotten her hips in the cycle, forgotten her voice which now whined with pleasure, forgotten — through some miracle — the space just below her vagina as the echoes of the nerves across her body came home and built into—</p><p>“Oh god!” She bucked forward, pinning the phone between Ratty’s leg and her clit, sending waves across her body that signalled nothing but ‘get closer’ or ‘get more’ or something unexplainable.</p><p>“Cum, Mel.” The possum spoke.</p><p>Her entire body clenched at once, the bottled nerves suddenly shattering and filling her body with endorphins. “Fuck— me—”</p><p>And in one motion the possum was on her, the familiar ramming so incredibly foreign when coupled with the proceedings, when coupled with the gentle touch of a woman, when coupled with care and attention.</p><p>They came at once.</p><p>Mel’s steady leak transformed into a few hard squirts as her body evacuated the last of the hormones. Ratty filling the collie with what must’ve been long-dead seed.</p><p>She fell to the floor, her legs giving out as she finished, dragging a string of spit with her and draping it unceremoniously across Mel’s chest. They sat there, an odd, satisfied pile until the possum could move, at which point she clambered back up the couch and nuzzled into the collie’s chest.</p><p>They fell asleep like that.</p>
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